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Zywa 3d
To have something to do
the attendant brushes up the pumps
In the forest it is already dark

Here it remains light, open
if you wait a few minutes
until he is out of bed

But that is no longer the case at night
The villagers refuel during the day
and long-distance traffic drives past

The economy keeps moving
The country, everyone, lives thanks
to the network (the concrete one)

and it may take some time
before it will be automated
Then occasionally someone will come

to spray the pumps clean
the fly spots will remain
and waxing will no longer be done
Collection "NightWatch"
Zywa Sep 2021
Days without a view,

right through the forest, with inns --

as signs to the world.
The forested country in earlier centuries

View of the south, from the residential towers of the Cenakel in Tilburg

Collection "The migration"
Zywa Aug 2021
People are bathing

in the waves of cargo ships --

that they buy empty.
Flushing (Vlissingen) --- Collection "Summer birds"
SYL Aug 2021

Inuusig niya ang mga talang kumikinang
At tumatabon sa mga parating na bulalakaw.
Ang mga mata ng santelmo’y
Hindi na lagim ang ibinubuntong hininga
Kundi liwanag na humahabol
Sa bawat paghikab nang nakatihaya.

Hati-hati sila sa papag
Sa kung sino ang taya sa pagsilang ng araw
At sa pinintang dilim
Na hindi na bangunot ang pasalubong
Kundi pag-asang makapagsalu-salong muli
Sa hapag-kainan sa panibagong kalendaryo.

Habang nagniningas ang mga baga’y
Guguhitan nila ang pisngi ng bawat isa
Gamit ang bawat kwentong agimat ng kahapon.
At mapupuno ng halakhakan ang bawat kurtina
Na para bang sila’y nasa entablado
Ng sarili nilang istoryang sila rin ang nagbigay-buhay.

Ang bawat butil ng bigas
Ay katumbas ng pawis na alay nila sa palayan
Habang ang kirampot na tuyong walang sawsawan
Ay sining na makulay sa kanilang mga mata.

At sila’y magtatampisaw
Sa putikan ng kanilang hanapbuhay
At ni isa sa kanila’y ni minsa’y
Di ginambala na ang bukas ay magiging sakuna.

Isa, dalawa, tatlo..
Sunud-sunod ang mabibilis na butil
Na ni isa’y di mailagan.
Ang mga butil ng palay
Ay nagmistulang mga basura sa lansangan
Na nilalangaw at pinag-aagawan
Ng mga itim na ibong gahaman sa kapangyarihan.
Ren Sturgis Mar 2021
Living in a world of insanity. Society keeps doing the same thing repetitively.
The poverty, economy is killing me. Where is the safety net we seek?
Humanity I'm begging!
Make a difference we can see. Let's strive for a world of peace, love and positivity 🖤
Inspired by Yungblud's Parents
Zywa Jun 2019
I cut a hole to find a little
hole, water is flowing out
of the concrete, I cut in it
until I'm spent and then

I cut further, a bigger hole
in the concrete, sorry dear neighbours
sorry for your ceiling too
but there's a leak and I could cry

for I can't put my finger in it
everything is so well arranged
with pipes and working faucets
which I unfortunately have to close now

it's a problem for all of us
I don't give up, I don't want to
be the owner of a leak
the dikes must be plugged
For Magda Sosnowska #1


Collection “Half The Work”
Homunculus Jan 2021
**** if I know.
I scarcely understand much anymore.
I am but a puddle of coherent reminiscences
oozing across the floor into decoherence and
diffusing into maximum entropy.

We are in Hell:
all is Maya,
all is Mara,
all is Dukkha.
Yet, we are slaves
who love our chains.

And I am a lifeless, fetal,
**** economicus,
mortifying de rigeur
in the ossified skull of a
long forgotten **** sapien.

If only those kinship instincts could've
survived the havoc we've wrought.
Look at what we've done.
Look at what we do.

**** for money.
**** for oil.
**** for land.
**** for 'justice.'
**** for God
**** for 'the cause'
**** for the sake of killing,
and pave over what's left.

Leave a few trees and bushes for our
dystopic terrarium.
'Our Synthetic Environment,'
old Murray[1] called it.

Now, walk into the forest.
Be there. Stay there.
Do you feel it?
Any of this nonsense we call

is it that you feel something more. . .  
More true?
To a point where our heated debates
appear as no more than frivolous diatribes?

When do we stop all this narrative solipsism
and get to the ******* point?
None of this is real.
Our thoughts are not our own.
Have they ever been?

The Spectacle [2] reigns supreme
as we idle spectators
speculate idly upon it.

Borges's fable of the cartographers [3]
has reached its apotheosis,
and we are its unwilling
and unwitting victims. . . .
A bit too much wine is the culprit here, I suspect.

1: Murray Bookchin, radical social theorist and major figure in the ecology movement.
2: "In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, all of life presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has moved away into a representation." - Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, 1967
3: The Borges story, credited fictionally as a quotation from "Suárez Miranda, Viajes de varones prudentes, Libro IV, Cap. XLV, Lérida, 1658", imagines an empire where the science of cartography becomes so exact that only a map on the same scale as the empire itself will suffice. [source: Wikipedia]
GQ James Dec 2020
Why hate on me when you can love on me,
The hate is getting deeper and deeper,
You don't wanna see me win,
Only happy when I'm down bad,
The way we treat one another is just sad,
We are brothers and sisters,
Let's make a friend instead being enemies.

It ain't gotta be so animosity between us,
Let's get along and not go to war,
Put the guns down and pick up the bible,
Homicides increasing,
Economy decreasing,
Let's create a new season.

The community bleeding,
Let's stop the bleeding,
Why your family starving and you eating,
Let's all eat and break break together,
Let's stand together,
Stop the separation.

It's a war zone out here in America,
We some animals in this jungle,
Caged in,
Locked up,
Throw the key away like we ain't humans,
We humans so let's stop acting animals,
We are better than the how the world see us.
Zywa Sep 2020
Blockages at work
outages and oxygen deficiency
waste in the blood

The management focuses
on the future and closes
doors and windows against
mosquitoes and moths

Bypasses and bitter pills
do not help, so just one more

We have meetings, hear each other
cackle, we croak our croak
play for time and hope and celebrate
the colleagues who say goodbye

I don't postpone it anymore
I will make my own way
create my own failure

My hands are still cleaning up
but my head is already absent
and I make beds in my heart
for those who are dear to me
Collection “Mosaic virus”
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